Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for hanging in there with me here in this little writing corner of my life in this world. It’s been so long since I’ve written, having gotten caught up in all the hoo ha that goes on from Thanksgiving through now.
I want to turn back around today and poke at something that happened last week and see what insights arise.
This, most of you probably don’t know, is my process: I sit at the keys and see what comes. I don’t plan my writing in any form, I just let it move through me, which is also what happens in church on Sunday mornings. For that I have a few notes, a general topic idea, and then I sit with a microphone (I have always loathed the trappings of the vocation: the silly outfit; the lectern; the fact that the pastor is up there while everyone else gazes up from below, etc.) and a few pieces of paper and then we talk. Yes. For real. I talk a bit then I ask the folks there to share their stories. It’s a satisfying form of spiritual discourse and I believe much more helpful in terms of any one person’s spiritual growth, including mine. I hope you will join us sometime if you’re near Peru, Vermont on a Sunday morning.
So, OK, last week I went back to my hometown to spend a little time with my folks and to see some friends and to have a mineral bath at one of the old bath houses there. Saratoga Springs is known for the mineral water that bubbles up out of the ground and people have been “taking the cure” since the mid-19th century. The Roosevelt, my favorite, maintains the original feeling of sanatorium meets spa. I love the old tile, the deep baths and the brownish bubbly mineral water. It sounds gross but it’s awesome.
So I was hanging out in the water last week and I started thinking about my life. My whole life. I’m sure this happened because I was back in the town where I grew up and because I can’t believe it’s been forty years since I graduated from high school and I can’t believe my parents are getting older and I barely recognize the city I once called home, there’s been so much new construction over the decades. The clear understanding that there are more sand crystals on the bottom of the hourglass than the top now contributed to this little gander down memory lane, too, no doubt.
This is me, 1983, about to become a Saratoga High graduate and enter into a life I couldn’t have made up if I tried or was on hallucinogens or both.
The beginning of my life review consisted of me thinking of the transcendent moments of my life. I think I was feeling like I wanted to be sure that if I die any time soon, it’s clear that I’ve had an amazing life. And I have, totally.
There was the day I spent hiking with some folks across a frozen lake to get to the Grewingk Glacier in Alaska. Nothing like standing next to a 13-mile-long ancient wall of ice to put things in perspective.
There was the time I flew about the Yukon River in far northern Alaska. Ditto.
Having babies and watching them grow up. Sitting in the back seat of the car now, while one of them drives, listening to their music and the sounds of their conversation. Bliss.
Redwood trees. Skiing. Cresting the hill and seeing Lake Tahoe on the drive from Reno. Every time. The ocean.
Driving in a convertible under a starry night from Santa Fe to Taos, Santana blasting.
Most of the best times, I realized, had to do with the natural world, and my kids.
After this fun exercise my mind quite naturally wandered to the darker times: divorce, drinking, time spent in the hospital. The many terrible choices I made, the ways I betrayed people I love, acted with dishonesty and selfish motivations. I thought of the worst versions of myself that I have been over the years and I felt all the attendant feels: shame, regret, disbelief. I thought about how easy it would have been to have dissolved into that place of darkness. How I could have given up and resigned myself to a belief that I was a loser and that life was too hard. I could, and probably did many times, have blamed others for my hard days. It hasn’t been until fairly recently that I have come to understand the role that our mindset has in creating our reality. And by that I mean … it’s everything. I get now that the thoughts we think, about ourself and the world, are what generate the reality we inhabit.
So I thought about the darkness and then I thought about the beautiful life I live today, stretching myself all the time to grow as a spiritual being. I have identified my greatest weaknesses and faults and I think of them daily and then use every opportunity that comes to do better. I’m clear about what I want for myself and my family in the future and I have work I love that challenges me all the time. My relationships with the people I love are solid and I have made clear boundaries with those who drain my life force. I am far, far from there, but I’m dedicated to being on the road to evolution. It’s awesome. And I live in a beautiful place that supports my desires; I can be outside doing fun things, in the woods, on a mountain, in a lake, riding my bike or my skis or swimming, all the things I loved to do as a kid.
We just had a really nice Christmas Eve service, the first time we were in the church for that in three years. It was packed, of course. The music was amazing. There were lots of kids, plenty of snow outside. A beautiful night. I talked a bit about the Christmas story we all know, with the manger, the young unwed pregnant mom and her partner looking for someplace to have that baby. The animals, star, wise guys. Then I talked about the version of the incarnation that John (as in the apostle) wrote:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world.
I love this version so much. I love it because John mentions light so many times. I love how simple it is: the Word became flesh … life … light.
But mostly and very especially I love this:
the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.
I have had the glaciers, the giant trees, bioluminescent ocean swims, tiny babies in my arms, skiing at full speed through snow in sunshine. I have been through two divorces, I drank heavily and treated the people who loved me most horribly. I have been raced to the hospital and I have been on the receiving end of so much kindness and love that I could float away today, in pure glee. It has ALL been both dark and light, from the moment I got here right up to now.
And the darkness, the deepest, darkest, ebony black nights of my life never, ever won (and never will). The light returned, and so did I, a better human every single time.
Amen. God bless and a very happy new year. Thank you so very, very much for being a reader. xomo
A magical night full of light and love. Thank you for so openly always sharing your story and helping to keep the light glowing in all of us. Hopefully we can all continue to pass it on in our daily lives; the world needs it. ❤️
This week I read a respiratory prayer. The breath of life comes to us from the four winds. God so loved the world that he blew breath into all beings to give us breath so that we might be living creatures. Now that is the light on the world I love. Blessings at this sacred time of year. Breath is a priceless gift from someone who has asthma. Amen.